


Blurring the lines

by Fancyfrenchie



Series: Slaveverse [3]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Flogging, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Spitroasting, Threesome, Whipping, lack of aftercare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 22:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10449135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fancyfrenchie/pseuds/Fancyfrenchie
Summary: When Krennic decides to share his toy with another, Galen finds himself struggling to maintain the distinction between pleasure and pain.





	

>  

Galen hangs, suspended by his wrists, he strains upwards onto his toes trying to relieve the pressure against his aching, overstrained shoulders. 

 

As a stinging blow lands on his sweaty, naked back he gasps, swinging forwards onto the tips of his toes forwards away from the pain.

  
  
To his right Master lounges against the doorframe, his long body loose and relaxed, his eyes bright with perverted pleasure, fix devotedly on Galen’s bare body.

 

Tarkin stands,to the side his left shoulder, his hand gripping Galen’s chin, forcing Galen to keep his eyes focused on his master.  

 

Master stands watching the two of them and Galen can feel the weight of his gaze like it's a physical thing between them. Master has one hand behind his head cushioning it from the doorframe and the other has disappeared below the waistband of his trousers, he’s casually stroking his arousal, while smirking at Galen wickedly. 

 

Tarkin moans in delight, his body trembling with desire, his hips rutting forwards and backwards, dragging across Galens bare thigh.

 

At every blow the trooper lands on his sweat slicked flesh the fingers holding his chin tighten, the nails digging crescent moon shapes into his skin.

 

He can hear the heavy, aroused breathing of all the other men present, and is all too aware of the hitching of their breathing every time a gasp of pain, he cannot stifle, slips free.    


  
Behind him, the trooper is using a light, braided leather whip and he's grateful it's nothing more substantial, the physical damage the lash does is minimal, but the blows are laid out across his skin with such painstaking accuracy the agony is nearly as bad as the collar at its worst.   


  
Tarkin tips his face up further, and strokes his hair back off his face, softly like a mother would with her child. 

 

Galen trembles, his body arches desperately away as another blow rocks him forwards onto his toes, another line of fire flaring across his already beaten back, biting back a loan of distress.   


  
Master steps closer, making a violent gesture over Galen's shoulder to stop the Trooper. The beating ceases instantly and the only sound in the room is heavy breathing. The panting thick with arousal from the Imperials and his own harsh pained panting.

 

He gazes at his Master with apprehension but to his surprise Master slides the hand not currently in his own trousers, between Galen’s legs.

 

Galen twitches with shock as he realises despite everything, he’s hard. He moans at the intimate touch, wetting his lips with his tongue, and hanging his head, shaking his hair over his face to hide his pained expression.

 

Master tightens his hand around his swelling cock and pumps just once, Galen feels his hips jerk, shuttering into the pressure, and drops his chin to rest on his chest, his lashes flutter rapidly against his cheeks and he groans again, more desperately, needing the pleasure Master grants to wash away the pain he feels.

  
  
Tarkin's rough, calloused fingers begin to gently stroke Galen’s face, petting him lightly, and he closes his eyes relishing the soft touch.

 

He is anxious, not to disturb the fragile mercy he's found. After the last punishment he'd been forced to endure, his mind skitters away from the mere memories nervously, he is so desperate to prevent a repeat that he has no desire to rebel against his Master's wishes.

 

He is desperate only to please the men before him, he wants to prevent his Master's displeasure with him so desperately he aches with it. 

 

Galen moans in pleasure, his body instantly submitting to his Master's touch. With no strength left to fight back, he is filled with the desire only to submit, seeking to appease the men who tormented him. 

 

His knees buckle, feet sliding on the polished surface of the floor, and the pain flares brightly in his wrists and shoulders as they strain to keep him upright and he struggles to regain his footing as his bare feet slide helplessly along the tiles.

 

All the while Master's hand fondles him in the most amazing ways and his attention is once again riveted on the pleasure his Master can provide.

  
  
Galen is caught completely off guard when the trooper lands a vicious blow across the width of his back while at the same time Master tugs more forcefully on his arousal, curling his fingers more tightly around Galen’s cock. 

 

He cries out in both pain and pleasure, his body tensing and jerking in his bonds, but is hardly allowed a moment to catch his breath before another blow catches him savagely him between his shoulder blades as Master’s fist strips his cock harder and faster, leaving  him shuddering and panting for breath.

  
  
Master let's go of his cock, and Galen moans in anguish at the loss of contact, and slips the now free hand between Galen’s legs, nudging his thighs open, and running a finger over him.

 

Galen groans again, his whole body tight, hot and heavy with desire. His hips stuttering backwards and forwards of their own accord, shamelessly begging for Master to end his taunting. 

 

Tarkin laughs suddenly, the noise distracting Galen before his attention is dragged back to his Master by the burrowing of two long fingers into him and the crooking of long fingers against his prostate. Galen nudges his hips backwards into the glorious pressure that is setting his nerves aflame, the trooper siezes the opportunity of his distraction to land yet another blow across his back.  

 

He screams.

  
  
Pleasure runs through his body, fighting against the pain of the lash. 

 

Master continues  thrusting his fingers gently into his clenching, greedy body, at his moans of need Master withdraws his other hand from his own trousers, groaning at the loss of contact, and curls the fingers of his now free hand around Galen’s aching, neglected cock.

 

Behind him the trooper continues to lay down stripes of fire across his skin with each blow of the lash, distantly he can hear the rhythmic grunts of Tarkin’s breathing which tells him that the other man is jerking himself off.

  
  
Galen cries out as Master twists his wrist, and presses a little deeper into him, pleasure and pain mingling within him, until he's dizzy with the stimulation and utterly unable to know where one stimulus begins and the other ends. 

 

He squirms desperately between the twin sensations of the pleasure Masters hands are bestowing upon him and the agony of the lash.

 

His whole body twists and jerks, leather and bare skin embracing his flesh, harsh and  yet soft as a whisper, while his mind reels under the sensory onslaught.

  
  
The trooper stops moving the lash around and lays blow after blow in precisely the same spot, the accuracy agonizing and Galen's body twists and writhes, cries merging into screams. 

 

His body shakes under the dual stimulation, his breathing hitches and catches and he struggles to catch his breath, all the men steadfastly his ignore his wailing.

 

The blows of the lash, come harder and more frequently.

 

Master pushes his fingers into him harder, the fingers just grazing his prostate, shock waves of pure pleasure spark through him, his eyes getting damp and his legs shaking with the stimulation. 

  
  
Tears slid over his cheeks and the breath catches wetly in his lungs, but despite the agony in his back, his groin throbs and pre come bubbles up from the slit, his dick jerking in Master's grasp.     


  
'Master' he gasps, his hips jerking backwards and forwards, 'Master, please.'

 

Master let's go of his cock and swipes his thumb over the head of his cock, a strangled cry leaves his mouth. Master rises a hand to his mouth and licks his pre come from his fingers.   


  
Tarkin slides a hand around Galen's side and rubs his belly before traveling down to his cock.

 

Master continues to thrust into his body, the big fingers stretching him pleasantly, the fingers pounding directly into his prostate now.

 

Tarkin fists his cock, with quick firm strokes, that have him rising up onto his toes, his knees quivering.

 

His whole body shivers and quakes, until with one final blow of the whip, and a twist of Tarkin's wrist, while Master fingers him just right, while running a finger over his nipple, Galen comes harder than he ever has in his life. 

 

He screams as he comes, his throat tight, and ragged against the cries.  His cock jerks with each jet of come it  releases, spurts of seed covering Tarkin's  hand and his own abdominals. 

 

As his knees buckle under the weight of his sudden exhaustion, Tarkin licks the come off his fingers, sending another wave of arousal through him, his dick giving another twitch.

 

Master pulls his fingers roughly out of him, the sensation rolls over him, sending more aftershocks shooting through him and his cock twitches as he slumps, breathing raggedly, in his bondage.

  
  
He hangs suspended, his body awash with hormones and the pleasure he's a been granted still hot and thick in his veins.

 

Master gestures to the trooper who leaves without a word, the door closing sounds ominous. 

 

Tarkin presses up against his body, rubbing his cock against Galen leaves trails of pre come across his skin.

 

Master rubs at his groin again, tugging at his zipper.

 

Tarkin rounds his still suspended body and wraps an arm around his waist holding him in place as a hard, hot length is pressed up  against the cleft of his buttocks.

 

Master's hand moves quicker as he watched Tarkin for a few long moments, before he releases the chains that keep Galen upright.

 

Without external support he slumps to the floor, and at once both men urge him up to his hands and knees.

 

Their hands shake with their suppressed desire and Galen feels the last vestiges of his orgasm die away, leaving him cold and aware in the aftermath.

 

Master tugs his cock free and rubs the head against his lips. Galen opens up obediently, sucking the proffered cock deep into his throat, just as Tarkin rubs against his opening.

 

The long slow thrust into him aches, the burn of penetration trying to awaking his arousal but the thrum of overstimulation taking the edge off his pleasure.

 

Tarkin moans, as he bottoms out, and Master groans in tandem as Galen presses his tongue firmly to the veiny underside of Masters cock.

 

Caught between the bodies of the two men he rocks to the rhythm they set and rides out their desires as well as he can.

 

Both men had clearly been on the edge, their lust driven high by the display they had witnessed, so it doesn't take long before Galen feels the length inside him pulse and the hot splash of come flood his insides.

 

Master takes a few more thrusts, hard and deep into his mouth, before he too comes hard, filling Galen from the other end.

 

Exhausted, he swallows everything and clenches as Tarkin pulls out, trying to let as little come slide out along with the other man's dick as he can. 

  
  
He remains on his hands and knees, Tarkin thanks Master and leaves.

 

Master grabs him under the arms and hauls him onto his feet.

 

Head drooping from his exhaustion, Galen doesn't even protest as he is dragged from the room.

  
The door of his cell opens and he is dropped inside, his knees give out and he is asleep as soon as his body crumples to the floor.


End file.
